


Moiety

by ShariDeschain



Series: Batdictionary [10]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Missing Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariDeschain/pseuds/ShariDeschain
Summary: Moiety(n) one of two equal parts.Or the first time that Dick hugs Damian and the first time Damian hugs Dick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> \- Written for the COW-T challenge @ maridichallenge

The first time he hugs Damian is at Bruce’s funeral.

The child is standing in front of his father’s coffin, back as straight as a needle, dry eyes furiously looking in front of him, a solemn and very collected expression on his young face. But Dick looks down at his hands, hidden in the pockets of the expensive suit Alfred had ordered for him, and he knows right away that there are fists in there. 

So he walks towards him and puts a hand on his shoulder. He truly expects the little demon to glare at him and just swat it away, and he wouldn’t care either, because all Dick wants right now is to show him that there is still a family here for him if Damian wants it - and even if he doesn’t want it.

Predictably enough, Damian freezes under his touch. Unexpectedly enough, he doesn’t avert it. On the contrary, as soon as he recognizes him, he actually leans into it. Leans into Dick completely, as it is, his left shoulder against Dick’s side, his head in the crook of Dick’s elbow.

Damian is a weird child. Problematic it’s the kindest word one could use, but there are so many others adjectives coming to mind when one’s forced to deal with this spoiled, arrogant, little brat, that it’s easy to forget that he’s a child nevertheless. Even for Dick, who really should know better.

He remembers himself in the same position, oh so many years ago. Standing in front of his parents’ coffins, dozens of people ruffling his hair, giving him sympathetic smiles and heartfelt condolences, and Bruce’s hand on his shoulder was a foreign touch, but also the only thing that felt real. And coming to think about it, it mustn’t have been very different for Bruce himself, a lot more years before, with Alfred beside him and Thomas and Martha Wayne’s gravestones in front of them. A neverending circle of unwilling orphans and even more unwilling fathers, that’s what they are. Dick almost snorts at the thought, even if it doesn’t amuse him in the slightest. Makes him feel sad, actually, and inappropriate.

But the point is, he understands it, he really does. The void. The emptiness. Damian never had a normal family or even normal family values, but losing a parent is the kind of pain that speaks an universal language and transcends education and training. It’s not just the loss of love, Dick’s learned, it’s also the loss of direction, the loss of someone able to take your hand and guide you through tomorrow and all the days after that, someone that was supposed by natural laws to just be there for so much longer.

So Dick squeezes Damian’s shoulder a little harder, tugs the child a little closer to him until he’s practically hugging him, and he’s infinitely grateful - and even a little proud - for Damian’s lack of protests. Because that means that under all his arrogant displays of strength and deadly skills Damian is still a child willing to be held and guided towards something better, and that’s something Dick can do. Not for Batman or for Gotham or even for the greater good, but for Bruce, and only for him. 

Because he doesn’t know if he can promise him to honor the cape and the cowl - he doesn’t know if he _wants_ to make that promise at all - but taking care of Damian, raising him like Bruce had raised Dick, well, _this_ he can promise. 

And maybe, _just maybe_ , he thinks, feeling the brush of Damian’s spiky hair against his chest, he’s even going to survive the experience in one piece.

*

The first time Damian hugs him is after the Pyg case.

They’re back home after one of the longest night Dick cares to remember, they’re both very satisfied and very tired of it, and Damian’s carrying his costume in one hand and the R’s patch in the other into the kitchen, for Alfred to sew them back together. Dick feels good for the first time in months. Feels _victorious_ even.

Dawn breaks in through the large windows and finds them sitting on the couch, barefooted and hair still wet from a long, well deserved shower, sipping hot chocolate from matching mugs. It’s quiet, and it’s comfortable, and it’s familiar, and it only needs fourteen hours or so of sleep to become a really good day.

But Damian seems preoccupied, Dick notices. He keeps his head lowered and he’s still fiddling with the little patch of black and yellow in his hand, and it doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to understand the direction his thought are wandering around.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?”, Dick asks gently, knowing that there are a lot of conversations Damian’s more than able to handle on his own, but also that this one in particular is probably a bit out of his comfort zone.

Damian nods at him, but he doesn’t stop twisting the patch between his fingers and he doesn’t look up at him when he speaks.

“I may have been too hasty in my assessment of your mentoring abilities earlier tonight”, the kid says. And it’s not a _I’m sorry for the way I acted today_ , and even less a _thank you for saving my life_ , but those are both things Dick never expected to hear from him. To be honest, he didn’t expect to hear this either.

He resists the urge to stand up from the couch and go kneel in front of the kid, as he’s learned first hand that Damian considers it a very patronizing thing to do and would react accordingly no matter how good the sentiment behind it. Instead he just scoots closer to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Damian”, he answers, one hand already petting the child’s hair. Damian reluctantly relaxes under his touch, his head lolls against Dick’s shoulder and this too feels like a victory tonight (or today, by now).

“It is not alright, Grayson, and you know it”, Damian reproaches him anyway. And then, as an afterthought, he adds. “You didn’t have to come after me.”

Dick doesn’t know if he wants to sigh or to smile at that, but mostly he doesn’t know which one of these two reactions he should show to Damian. A sigh could be interpreted as exasperation, a smile as mocking, and he’s honestly too tired for another discussion. So he compromises with himself, sighs only mentally and hides a smile in Damian’s hair when he bends forward to press a brief kiss on the top of his head.

“You are my partner, remember?”, he asks then, because he knows that Damian accepting him as a mentor, and even him accepting a little cuddling from Dick, doesn’t mean that the kid considers him family yet, or that he understands the natural obligations and responsibilities Dick feels towards him. Which is okay, because that’s just another thing Dick’s going to teach him, through as many fights and shouting matches as are needed.

Again, Damian only answer is a nod, and then a yawn. Dick takes it as a cue to permanently end this entire Pyg affair and he promptly stands up from the couch, stealing the Robin patch from Damian’s sleepy fingers in the process.

“Good. Let’s go to sleep then. I honestly can’t feel my brain anymore”, he jokes, hoping to bait Damian into a quick banter, and fully expecting him to reply with something along the line of _that’s probably because you never had a brain to start with, Grayson_.

Instead Damian just stands up and tilts his head back to gingerly eye him for a moment. Then he suddenly moves towards him and wraps his arms around his waist, burying his face into his stomach. It’s all so fast that Dick has barely the time to register his movement and recover from the unexpectedness of it just enough to quickly hug him back, before Damian steps away from him again.

“Goodnight, Grayson”, he says without looking at him, before making a straight beeline for his bedroom. 

And if his face was a bit redder than usual, or if he looked cutely embarrassed by such a childish and spontaneous gesture of affection, well, Dick’s definitely not going to mention it to anyone. (Except maybe Alfred, because he’s going to smile so fondly at that, and Dick can’t deny Alfred a smile on his life.) (Oh, and probably Tim too, just to prove him that Damian _can be_ a nice kid when he wants to, it’s just not Dick’s fault if Damian never wants to be nice with Tim.)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m rereading Batman Reborn and oh boy, the feels. Also there is this beautiful panel in Grayson #12, when finally Dick and Damian meet again and one of their memories together is them standing in front of Bruce’s coffin, Dick’s arm around Damian’s shoulders, and I just. So. Many. Feels.
> 
> On another note, I’m in dire need of writing, and since these people are currently the only ones to make me less dead inside, if you have prompts for me [I’ll be very happy to take them and cuddle them at the best of my abilities.](https://unavenged-robin.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
